Take advantage? The cheesy double entendre made her wince. A moan from the lovebirds a row ahead only made it worse.
“No worries.” He stowed his briefcase in the overhead before sidling in to sit down.
Then he turned to her, the light above bringing him fully into focus— And holy cows on her hometown Vermont farm, he was hot. Angular. But with long lashes that kept drawing her gaze back to his green eyes. He was probably in his early thirties, gauging from the creases when he smiled with the open kind of grin that made him more approachable.
She tilted her head to the side, studying him more closely. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t quite place him…. She shook off the feeling. She’d met so many people at the parties she’d planned in D.C. They could have crossed paths at any number of places. Although, she must have seen him from a distance, because if they’d met up close, she definitely wouldn’t have forgotten him.
His seat belt clicked as the plane began taxiing. “You don’t like flying.”
“Why do you say that?”
“You want the window seat, but have the shade closed. You’ve already plugged into the radio. And you’ve got the armrest in a death grip.”
Handsome and observant. Hmm …
Better to claim fear of flying than to go into the whole embarrassing mess she’d made of her life. “Busted. You caught me.” She nodded toward the row in front of her just as one of the seats reclined providing too clear a view of a man’s hand sliding into the woman’s waistband. “And the lovebirds up there aren’t making things any more comfortable.”
His smile faded into a scowl. “I’ll call for the flight attendant.”
He reached for the button overhead. She touched his wrist. Static snapped. At least she hoped it was just static and not a spark of attraction.
Clearing her throat, she folded her arms over her chest, tucking her hands away. “No need. The flight attendant’s in the middle of her in-flight brief—” she lowered her voice “—and giving us the death glare for talking.”
He leaned toward her conspiratorially. “Or I can kick the back of their seat until they realize they’re not invisible—and that they’re being damned inconsiderate.”
Except now that he was so close, she didn’t notice them. Her gaze locked on the glinting green eyes staring at her with undisguised, unrepentant interest.
A salve to her ego. And an excellent distraction. “I guess we can live and let live.”
“We can.”
“Although, honestly, it doesn’t seem fair the flight attendant isn’t giving the evil eye to the handsy twosome.”
“Maybe they’re celebrating their anniversary.”
She snorted.
“Cynic?”
“And you’re trying to tell me you’re a true believer in flowery romance?” She took in his expensive suit, his dimpled smile and his easy charm. “No offense, truly, but you seem more like a player to me.”
A second after the words left her mouth, she worried she might have been rude.
He just laughed softly and flattened a hand to his chest.
“You think the worst of me. I’m hurt to the core,” he said with overplayed drama.
Her snort turned into a laugh. Shaking her head, she kept on laughing, tension uncurling inside. Her laughter faded as she felt the weight of his gaze on her.
He pointed to the window. “We’re airborne now. You can open the shade and relax.”
Relax? His words confused her for a second and then she remembered her excuse for nerves. And then remembered the real reason for her nerves. Her ex-boyfriend. Barry the Bastard Bum. Who she was hoping to help put in prison once she identified his accomplice in Chicago—if she didn’t get offed by the bad guy first.
She thumbed her silver seat belt buckle. “Thank you for the help …”
“Troy.” He extended his hand. “My name is Troy, from Virginia.”
“I’m Hillary, from D.C.” Prepping herself for the static this time, she wrapped her fingers around his, shaking once. And, yep. Snap. Snap. Heat tingled up her arm in spite of all those good intentions to keep all guys at bay. But then what was wrong with simply being attracted to another person?
Her ex had taken so much from her, and yes, turned a farm-fresh girl like her into a cynic, making her doubt everyone around her. Until she now questioned the motives of a guy who just wanted to indulge in a little harmless flirtation on a plane.
Damn it, there was nothing bad about chatting with this guy during the flight. He had helped her through her nerves about identifying Barry’s accomplice at the fundraiser this weekend. A very slippery accomplice who had a way of avoiding cameras. Very few people had ever seen him. She’d only seen him twice, once by showing up at Barry’s condo unannounced and another time at Barry’s office. Would the man remember her? Her nerves doubled.
She desperately needed to take full advantage of the distraction this man beside her offered. Talking to Troy beat the hell out of getting sloshed off the drink cart, especially since she didn’t even drink.
“So, Troy, what’s taking you to Chicago?”
Troy had recognized Hillary Wright the minute he’d stepped on the plane. She looked just like her Interpol file photo, right down to the freckles on her nose and the natural sun streaks through her red hair.
The photo hadn’t, however, shown anything below the neck—a regrettable oversight because she was … hot. Leggy with curves and an unadorned innocence that normally wasn’t his type. But then when had he ever given a crap about walking the expected path?
That’s why he’d shown up here, on her flight, rather than following the plan laid out by the CIA operatives, who were working in conjunction with the American branch of Interpol. To see what she was like in an unguarded moment.
Lucky for him that window seat was empty so he’d been able to wrangle his way in beside her. It had been too easy, and she was totally unsuspecting. She might as well have “fresh off the farm” tattooed across her freckled nose.
A sexy uptipped nose he wouldn’t mind kissing as he worked his way around to her ear. He’d expected pretty from her picture, but he hadn’t been prepared for the un-definable energy that radiated off her. It was as damn near tangible as her innocence.
This plane on the way to Chicago was the last place she should be. More so, that viper’s nest gala this weekend was absolutely the last place she should be.
Damn, damn, damn the “powers that be” for making her a part of some crazy power play. He could have accomplished the identification in Chicago without her, but they’d insisted on having her backup confirmation. It was obvious to him now that she was too naive to brush elbows with the sharks at that gala—a bunch of crooks using a fundraiser to cover up their international money laundering.
“Troy?
